NORTH POLE — There were studs all over the stable. He was the afterthought of the afterthought. Poor Rudolph. How bad did it get for this reindeer? Shoot, they didn’t even let him play in any games.

But the old man saw something in him. Er, on him. The old man was a visionary, a risk-taker who flew by the seat of his ever-expanding pants.

It was the big night, conditions were foggy. So he fiddled with his red hat, scratched his white beard, and then made the call.

“Red Nose,” he whispered. “Gimme Red Nose.”

We all know what happened next: Love from his peers. Shouts of glee. Talk of his historical significance.

Rudolph was a star.

On the morning of Dec. 26, he was a different reindeer. He had emerged. He pranced around Prancer, danced around Dancer. Vixen? Yeah, he had three vixens, basically hanging from his antlers. Rudolph was rude to them, using a famous Santa quote out-of-context (though some thought he was simply requesting gardening tools). The vixens didn’t care. He was the biggest thing since Frosty.

Rudolph now wore a large diamond-encrusted chain around his neck, which said “RTRNR.”

By New Year’s, no one recognized Rudolph. He was a changed reindeer. The fame was intoxicating. He had a private stable built just for himself and his personal staff, which included someone to hand-feed him leaves and lemmings, and another person whose lone job, every 25th minute, was to gently polish Rudolph’s red nose. He signed major endorsement deals with Caribou Coffee and John Deere.

“The fame,” Blitzen told the North Pole Times-Picayune, “is getting to his antlers.”

But the following Christmas, he crushed it again, fullback-ing his way through another fog with his bright red schnozz. They slayed the sky with the sleigh. It was the stuff of legend.

Rudolph survived the backlash of his public proclamation, but felt more pressure than ever to perform. Which led to a quiet summer night, when a man approached him. He was a trainer. The man said he had something for Rudolph.

“It’ll make your nose so bright — brighter and stronger than ever before,” he softly said into Rudolph’s ear.

It was the juice. Performance-enhancing wattage. Santa could never know. No one could ever know.

That next Christmas, Rudolph’s nose was like a floodlight, a blinding red beam shooting across the sky. Something was up. Some rumors started to fly. All of the other reindeer called him names, “Rein-dope,” for one. But Rudolph was a hero to the masses. The biggest star in the history of the North Pole, rivaling even the big man himself.

And so, Rudolph held a live TV news conference. Rudolph, a reporter and a bunch of elves. Just what was Rudolph going to announce? He paused, a bead of illuminated sweat dripping off his red nose. And then, he spoke.

Benjamin Hochman was a sports columnist for The Denver Post until August 2015 before leaving for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, his hometown newspaper. Hochman previously worked for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, winner of two Pulitzer Prizes for its Hurricane Katrina coverage. Hochman wrote the Katrina-themed book “Fourth and New Orleans,” published in 2007.